


Bee My Honey

by inb4invert, SweetSorcery



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Books, Bottom Credence Barebone, Credence Barebone-centric, Dancing, Don't copy to another site, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Flirting, Food, Friendship, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Gift Giving, Happy Credence Barebone, Inappropriate Erections, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, Matchmaking, Meet-Cute, Pajama Party, Pajamas & Sleepwear, Party, Party Games, Protective Original Percival Graves, Rimming, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slash, Slow Dancing, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Top Original Percival Graves, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Workaholic Original Percival Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22302178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inb4invert/pseuds/inb4invert, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: Sweets, games and gifts were on the schedule for a Valentine's pyjama party with Credence's circle of friends. But the mystery man from upstairs will make it something altogether special.
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 44
Kudos: 171
Collections: ❤️ Gradence for the Soul ❤️





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   

> 
> Yes, it's a Valentine's Day story, but we got a little impatient. :)

"Okay, all of yous!" Queenie's voice came drifting cheerily out from the kitchen, as it so often did, growing in volume as she made her way towards the living area. 

"Now, I know we may all be unattached at the moment, but tonight is going to be all about _fun_." 

She stood now at the living room door, punctuating that last statement with an ear-to-ear grin. In her hands she held a tray heavily laden with a pitcher filled with some kind of bright pink punch that sloshed merrily as she bustled it over to the side table. "There's plenty of games," she went on, "like _Twister_," (this she delivered in a stage whisper, accompanied by a wink) "and there's plenty of snacks, of course. Oh! And gifts! I hope everyone's remembered their Valentine's 'Secret Santa' offering?" 

Credence nodded as everyone else enthusiastically voiced their assent, with the exception of Tina, who rolled her eyes at her sister across the room.

"For the millionth time, _yes_," she groaned. 

Queenie turned a little frown in her direction. "Well, Teenie, we don't want anyone getting left out. Not on Valentine's Day. That would defeat the whole point." 

"As long as I don't get left out on any of your famous pastries, I'm a happy guy!" Jacob announced, and, that easily, the sibling tension was brushed away. 

It wasn't as though Credence minded being single on Valentine's Day--he'd been single for every one of them so far in his life. But it was nice to have been invited to something like this, a little party of his closest friends, all of them orphans of romance. Although, taking in some of the glances being shared around the room so far that evening, Credence wasn't sure everyone gathered was bound to stay single for long. When it came to Queenie, Jacob certainly was eager for more than just her cooking; he'd been growing increasingly bashful at the mere mention of her name for weeks now.

And Newt… well, he was bashful almost all of the time, it seemed, but Credence would never have imagined it could get worse until he'd seen him together in a room with Tina.

Credence was so lost in thought, he only heard the last few words of Queenie’s statement.

“... most unlikely man ever to be single, unless of course…” She grinned, looking at Credence.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I was just talking about Mr Graves up in the penthouse. You know who I mean… handsome, dark hair with silver around the sides, dressed like a movie star. And he really is single.” She giggled when Credence blushed. “That’s the one--the one who always makes you blush when we so much as mention him or see him in the distance.”

“Don’t tease him, Queenie!” Tina chided, even while Jacob and Newt chuckled good-naturedly. “I’m sure Credence would rather find someone his own age.”

Credence opened his mouth to point out that no, he definitely wouldn’t, but he didn’t want to give his friends any more reason to make fun of him over Mr Graves. He remembered the first time he’d come along to visit Queenie and Tina: Mr Graves had just stepped out of the elevator and turned to walk through the lobby of the apartment building. He’d caught only a glimpse of him, dark coat swishing as he strode away, exuding confidence but, along with the gorgeous face, it had been enough to fuel his imagination. Credence hadn’t known until then what romance novelists really meant when they talked about one’s heart missing a beat and time standing still at the first sight of--

“Credence!” Jacob gave him a good-natured poke in the shoulder, grinning broadly.

“Sorry,” he said, crestfallen.

“Someone is very distracted today.” Queenie handed him a glass of lemonade. “It’s okay, sweetie, we know what it’s like to be pining.”

“I’m not pining,” Credence protested weakly.

“Well, just in case you are,” Queenie said cheerfully, “I made sure to run into Mr Graves and let slip that we’re having a little party tonight, with our friends, in case he’d like to join us.”

“You didn’t!” Credence and Tina said at once, for somewhat different reasons.

Newt grinned. “What did he say?”

Queenie sighed. “He said he’s not a party person, but he thanked me for the invitation.” She shrugged. “Still, it’s Valentine’s Day, he might feel like company which, according to Mrs Baker next door, he never has; he’s a real loner, apparently.”

“Queenie,” Tina said, “this is a pyjama party. He’s a total stranger.”

Grinning, Queenie said, “So what? Everyone has a pair of pyjamas. They’re just a really comfortable suit.” She pointed down at herself and the pink and white polkadot pyjamas she was wearing.

Credence tried very hard not to imagine the stylish, well dressed Mr Graves in pyjamas. Truth be told, he couldn’t imagine what kind of pyjamas a man like that might wear. He took a deep gulp of his lemonade to distract himself from wondering about it.

As it turned out, distraction soon arrived in the shape of several platters and dishes of food--Queenie’s famous pastries, potato salad, tiny sausages and bits of cheese on skewers, chicken wings, bread rolls, and all manner of other things. Everyone was digging in heartily when the doorbell rang a quarter of an hour later, and pausing with their food halfway to their mouths as if they’d rehearsed it.

“Shall I get it?” Jacob offered with a chuckle.

“I will,” Queenie quickly said. “You have another pastry.” She’d leapt up and was halfway to the front door before Jacob could reply, and opened it expectantly. “Oh,” she said, the pout audible in her voice.

“Sorry to bother you on your way to bed, Queenie dear, but I was wondering if you’d seen Puss this evening. My, my, you young people today do go to sleep early, I must say. In my day--”

“I saw her climbing in the basement window earlier, Mrs Baker,” Queenie said helpfully, and quickly.

“Oh, bless you! I’ll go see then.”

“Good night, Mrs Baker,” Queenie said, beginning to close the door, when she suddenly exclaimed, “Mr Graves!”

Credence nearly got one of the tiny sausages stuck in his throat. He craned his neck to try and see past Queenie.

“Good evening, Miss Goldstein.”

“Oh, so formal. You young people!” Mrs Baker went off with an altogether wrong idea, cackling to herself obliviously.

“I’m sorry?” Mr Graves asked, frowning after Mrs Baker.

“Glad you decided to join us after all,” Queenie told him.

“Ah, well, not exactly. You see, I ran out of tea, and I knew you’d be home, since you mentioned a party, so I thought--”

“No problem. We have all kinds of tea. Come in.” Queenie laughed. “I should warn you. It’s a pyjama party we’re having, so don’t be surprised.”

“I wondered,” he said, glancing at her attire while following her inside. “You’re quite sure you don’t want me to just wait at the door? I don’t want to dis--”

Credence stared at him, for the first time fully seeing the man at close range. Well… across a room. Mr Graves had suddenly gone silent and was staring right back at him, lips slightly parted and eyes moving over Credence’s face, then down over his honey bee pyjamas, then back up again with a definite hint of a smile. And what a smile!

“Don’t be silly. It’s just me and my sister, and some good friends. Very informal.”

Everyone waved or called out a greeting, with Credence managing no more than a soft, “Hello.”

“Hello,” Mr Graves said, his eyes still on Credence.

Credence blushed, and hated himself for it. The man had the most wonderful, warm voice, and he really wished Queenie had mentioned that earlier, as a kind of warning to his heart.

“What kind of tea would you like?” Queenie asked, “We have black, green, all sorts of fruit flavoured ones, Oolong, Lapsang… Eww, to be honest, you don’t want that one.”

“Just green, please.”

“Would you like to borrow some honey to go with that?” Queenie suggested cheekily, taking in the way the man couldn’t shift his eyes off Credence.

"Yes, I think I might-- no," he shook his head, stopping himself again mid-sentence as though he didn't know quite _what_ he'd been thinking. He looked to Queenie finally, breaking his gaze away from Credence with a sheepish look. "No, I… I've got honey at home, at least. And I don't use it in green tea anyway." 

At Credence's side, Jacob snorted quietly. "Maybe he's got honey at home, but he certainly wouldn't mind a little _sugar_, by the looks of it, eh Credence?" He nudged Credence in the ribs then, nearly toppling him over amongst the pile of soft cushions strewn about the living room floor. 

Credence blushed as red as the Valentine's decorations hung here and there about the room, casting a worried glance towards the mouth of the kitchen where Mr Graves still stood. Thankfully, he didn't seem to have heard. In fact, almost as though Jacob had been absolutely right, the man went on. 

"On the topic of honey, it does smell lovely in here, Miss Goldstein. Is that something you whipped up for your little gathering? It always seems to smell delicious every time I pass your apartment, and now I'm understanding why." 

Just then, he returned his eyes back towards the living room, and Credence wished fervently that he could disappear into the many pillows, or at the very least disguise himself as one of the bright pink paper hearts, his face burned so hot. He swallowed hard, already knowing how badly the rest were bound to tease him once the man was gone, and at the same time he wished that moment would come soon _and_ never come at all. 

Valentine's wasn't a wish-granting sort of holiday, at least not in any sense Credence had ever heard of, and yet it seemed he was about to receive his. _Both_ of them. 

"Well, Mr Graves," he heard Queenie saying, "like I said before, you're more than welcome to join us. We'd love to have you, and there's certainly plenty to eat." 

"You'd be doing yourself a favour," Jacob called out, and for a terrible moment Credence feared his friend was about to embarrass him completely. "Queenie's food is the best, and her company is even better." 

Credence closed his eyes and breathed out his utter relief, only to have them snap open again when he heard Mr Graves' unexpected reply. 

"You know, now that I'm here, it seems a shame not to join you folks at least for a little while. But I certainly won't spoil the theme by remaining so overdressed. Why don't I take this tea upstairs, and then I'll change into a set of pyjamas myself and come down in a few minutes?" 

By now, Jacob was rolling his eyes and mugging so hard even Newt was fighting to stifle a giggle. Somehow, Credence was finding it hard to care anymore, faced with the prospect of spending more time with the man, never mind finding out what kind of pyjamas he wore after all. His heart was hammering so hard beneath his own honey bee PJs, he could half imagine it was about to burst out of his chest and join its fellows amongst the rest of the Valentine's trimmings. 

“Great!” Queenie was enthusing as she accompanied the man back to the front door. “We’ll save you some of the food. Don’t be long now.”

“I won’t be.” As the door began to close on him, Mr Graves managed one more look back inside, finding Credence’s eyes as if they were the only ones in the room on him.

For the next ten minutes or so, Credence endured enough good-natured teasing to make it impossible to eat another bite. His friends managed to multi-task just fine, both teasing and eating, and when the door bell rang again, everyone looked at him expectantly. 

“I… I can’t answer that. I don’t even live here!” he protested.

“Go on,” Jacob gave him a nudge. “It’s obvious enough you’re the reason he’s coming back.”

“If you don’t answer the door, no one will, and he’ll go away again,” Queenie said, nibbling on an olive with a devilish grin and, indeed, making no move to stand up; when Tina tried to, with a sigh, she held her back.

Credence got up as fast as his shaky legs allowed, hurrying to the door while trying to ignore the giggles following him there. His hands shook just as badly as his legs when he turned the knob and opened the door to meet Mr Graves’ eyes. He swallowed hard.

“Hello,” the man said, smiling gently.

“Hu… hello.” Credence glanced down, biting his lip as he took in the belted, patterned robe and deep red pyjamas… satin? No, silk, he guessed.

“Do I pass inspection?”

Credence stared at the man, horrified he’d been gawking at him too long, but the smile was as friendly and open as it had started out, and he realised it was a simple question to ensure the attire was ‘in theme’. “Oh, yes, of course.”

“Percival Graves.” An elegant hand was held out, and Credence took it, suppressing a shiver at its gentle warmth.

“I’m Credence. Barebone. Credence Barebone.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Credence.”

Credence returned the smile, and Mr Graves’ own smile widened. “P-please, come in, meet everyone else properly.”

“Thank you.” 

Credence led him inside and, noting there had been a none too subtle shift in seating, quickly squeezed back into his corner of the sofa while the others introduced themselves to Mr Graves by name. When the man settled down right beside him--the only available spot now--Queenie was there at once with a plate and cutlery. 

“Help yourself to anything you like, Mr Graves.”

Credence was sure he merely imagined the quick glance at him when the man answered, “Thank you, Miss Goldstein.”

“Queenie. Besides, there’s two Miss Goldsteins here, it would only get confusing.”

Mr Graves laughed. “That’s a good point.” 

Credence sat a little stiffly, all too aware of the many sets of eyes sending quick and knowing glances in his direction, and even more than that--the deep warmth of Mr Graves right next to him. He wasn't sure he'd ever been so overwhelmed by someone else's physical presence this way--pleasantly giddy with the mere _fact_ of the man and his every small gesture. 

For a moment, he just watched as those elegant hands carefully chose an item here or there from out of the delicious spread Queenie had arranged. The man went about his decisions carefully, thoughtfully, commenting now and then on how lovely it all looked.

Credence noticed he seemed to be favouring sweet items just as much as he himself was inclined to, and after a moment, the tension somehow became too much and he decided it was better to speak to the man rather than suffer in silence. If anything, his need to please and to always make himself helpful won out. 

"These are particularly good, if you like sweets, Mr Graves," he said softly, pointing out a nearby plate of raspberry jam tarts that were quaintly adorned with tiny sugar roses. 

Mr Graves turned his face towards him, rather than the display, and his smile was warm enough to crinkle the corners of his brown eyes. It was hard to remember then how serious and stern he'd looked while marching across the apartment lobby in his long coat that one time. "Please," he answered, "call me Percival." 

Credence was sure he heard Jacob cough, and out of the corner of his eye, he definitely caught sight of Tina jabbing an elbow hard into his side, which only had him ‘coughing’ even more. Immediately it occurred to Credence that Queenie hadn't been similarly corrected when she'd called him Mr Graves only moments before.

"Um, yes of course, if you'd like," he said. 

Percival's smile widened and he nodded, as though they had just settled some sort of important deal. "I suppose my tastes _are_ a little obvious," he went on, and Credence had to work hard not to choke out an astonished little sound himself before the man's meaning came clear. "I do seem to favour the sweet over the savoury, if my current selection is anything to go by." 

Credence breathed out a sigh, at the same time admonishing himself for the momentary hope that Percival had meant anything less than innocent. 

Glancing back to the table, Percival admitted, "You know, I almost thought they were too pretty to eat, it seems a shame to ruin them. But if you recommend I try one, then I certainly must." With that, he delicately placed one of the tarts at the edge of his plate while Queenie beamed at the compliment on her presentation.

“If it’s properly appreciated, nothing is too pretty to enjoy,” she said brightly.

“Wise words,” Percival answered, assessing the raspberry treat for a moment before taking a tiny, gentle bite of it. His hum of enjoyment was nearly inaudible, unless one happened to sit right beside him.

There was no reason, Credence told himself, for him to suddenly feel too warm in the pleasantly temperate apartment. 

***

By the time everyone had abandoned even the last bite of the delicious food offerings, Percival had been nudged into being on a first name basis with everyone, had learned that Queenie and Tina had inherited the apartment from their parents, and was aware that Credence roomed with Jacob and Newt a few blocks away. In return, he’d given them a glimpse into his own life--he was the CEO of a security firm, rarely went out unless it was on business, and he preferred peace and solitude to company after hours.

“You sound like something of a loner,” Newt said, then immediately looked embarrassed, “if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Percival laughed. “You’re probably right, Newt. I’ve always preferred no company to bad company. Though I have nothing against good company.” He glanced, every so subtly, at Credence. “I _am_ very glad I took up this invitation tonight.”

“I wonder why,” Jacob muttered with a grin, even as Credence ducked his head.

Queenie stated. “Because we’re excellent company, of course!”

“Quite right,” Percival agreed. “It was high time I became acquainted with someone who doesn’t work with me or for me.”

“Well… Credence is looking for a job,” Tina said rather unexpectedly.

Percival looked across at her, then at Credence. “Is that right?”

Credence met his eyes. “I… I am, but I’m sure there’s nothing in your company I’m qualified for. I have really…” he lowered his eyes and muttered, “I have no proper qualifications. Besides…”

“Besides?” Percival prompted gently. 

“This is a party. You shouldn’t be bothered with anything related to work.”

Tina sighed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s really no problem. And Credence, I’d love to see if there isn’t some way I can help. Why don’t I--” Percival reached for a non-existent chest pocket in his robe, then looked momentarily befuddled. “Ah. I’m afraid I didn’t bring any business cards with me tonight.” 

Credence couldn’t help himself. He started giggling, with the others joining in, including Percival.

“Why don’t I write down my contact details for you later, so we can keep in touch?” Percival suggested softly, the words drowned out by the amusement of the others.

“Thank you. I’d like that,” Credence murmured.

“As would I. Very much.” Percival smiled at the blush Credence couldn’t even attempt to suppress under the close scrutiny.

***

Keeping in touch--rather close touch, in fact, was apparently next on the evening's menu, when Queenie snuck off to another room and returned with a beaming smile and a brightly coloured box. 

Tina groaned audibly, while Newt and Jacob took to clapping and a few snickering cheers. "I didn't want to believe you were actually serious," Tina said, "but I should have known." 

"What is it?" Credence asked, leaning forward, only to have Percival flick his eyes over and scan his face with a look of mild amusement, almost as if he was checking to see whether or not Credence was being serious. 

"It's Twister," he answered quietly after a second. "You haven't played it before?" 

Credence bit his lip and shook his head. "No, but… don't be surprised if that seems strange. I, uh, I had a kind of strict upbringing, I guess." His brow creased in thought and he glanced over the box again as Queenie began to set it out on the floor. "It sounds like something painful," he remarked. 

To his surprise, Percival barked out a sudden laugh and ran a reassuring hand over his pyjama-clad back, right where the slogan 'Bee My Honey' was emblazoned in gold lettering. His touch through the flannel was about as hot as Credence had been imagining, and he fought to keep as still as possible despite the swooping excitement low in his stomach urging him to squirm. 

"It shouldn't be painful," Percival said, seemingly oblivious to the predicament he was causing. "Not if you, and everyone else, is careful enough." 

Credence looked into Percival's face, wondering just what he meant, and instantly wished he hadn't, if only to hide the blush the man's next words brought on. 

"Don't worry," he whispered, and winked as he said it, so quickly Credence almost wasn't sure it had actually happened. "I'll keep a close eye out and, if you look as though you're about to stumble, I'll make sure to catch you."

Credence barely had enough breath to get out a soft, “Okay.”

It was decided they’d form teams of two, which were all to play against each other. Because Credence didn’t know how to play, he sat out the first round. Percival volunteered to operate the spinner, which Credence realised would place them on the same team in the next rounds; at this point, he was unsure whether that was a good or a bad thing.

Queenie and Tina took up their positions on the dots at one end of the mat, and the team consisting of Jacob and Newt mirrored them at the other.

Credence watched, aghast, as his friends contorted themselves into the most awkward poses, arms and legs becoming more tangled with each body part and colour Percival called out. He was expected to do this? With… with Percival? 

Percival laughed heartily when Newt’s long limbs essentially tripped up his far shorter-legged teammate.

“Aww, Newt.” Jacob groaned, rubbing what he could reach of his backside.

“Sorry, sorry.” Newt flopped down beside him. “I guess we lost this round.”

“You sure did!” Queenie crowed triumphantly, looking as pleased with herself as Tina did. “Your turn, you two,” she told Percival and Credence.

“Oh god,” Credence moaned.

“Hey, we can do this.” Percival rose and held out his hand, smiling when Credence let himself be pulled up. He drew him close and whispered, “I take regular yoga classes, and you look nimble enough.”

Somehow, none of those statements calmed Credence, but he nodded and followed Percival’s lead as they faced their female opponents on the mat.

Jacob called out the instructions this round, and Credence wondered very much whether he wasn’t taking liberties to ensure he and Percival would end up in the most embarrassing positions possible. For all that, Queenie ended up eliminating Tina and herself in the end, when her right foot slipped and pulled Tina’s hand right off the mat.

By that point, Credence had his hands on circles on either side of Percival, his nose a mere inch from his jaw and the intoxicating scent of his cologne. He’d had some trouble finding a blue dot for his left foot, until Percival pointed out that, being on the same team, they were allowed to utilise the same dot. Which was convenient, until it meant Credence’s left leg was pressed along the entire length of Percival’s right.

“Guys, we’ve lost this round. You’ve won, so you could… you know, detach from each other?” Tina informed them from her spot beside the mat, grunting when she got one of Queenie’s elbows into her side. 

Percival raised his brows and smirked a little at Credence, whose face was burning up with embarrassment and the effort of holding himself at least a few inches away from the man. In fact, his face was so hot, he figured Percival could probably feel it, and still somehow the way the man looked at him--holding his eyes with a softly questioning expression--had him feeling as if it were just the two of them in the room. 

Unbidden, Credence was seized with the wish that they really _were_ alone together, and suddenly their close proximity was on its way to becoming an even worse source of embarrassment, if he didn't get up quickly enough. A little panicked, he swallowed hard and seemed to have forgotten how to move his limbs, despite the urgency. 

"Well," Percival said, I suppose she's right, but we don't want you falling in the end after we did such a good job. I _did_ make a promise after all, didn't I?" 

Credence wanted to answer, he really did, but all he could manage was a mute nod. 

Percival grinned up at him and his stomach flipped at least three times over. "Let's see if we can do this with some dignity, hmm? Just put your left knee between mine and push off from there on the count of three." 

Trembling limbs and about a million other feelings besides, somehow Credence found it was so _easy_ just following Percival's instructions. Everything about the man suggested competence and trust, and when he thought about the fact that he ran a security firm of all things, the idea had Credence close to swooning. 

He managed to get his knee into place just the way he'd been told, and suddenly Percival's large, warm hands were braced on either side of his waist, and the last thing he wanted was to feel them lift away again so soon. The collar of his honey bee pyjamas was hanging loose and open; he knew that if Percival only glanced down he'd be able to see the way his bare chest was beginning to rise and fall with the start of something mortifyingly close to panting. 

He bit his lip and thought: _Credence, if you moan out loud in front of everyone, it's over._

What he _did_ do was close his eyes and push up into a standing position like pulling off a bandage. Altogether, it had only been a handful of seconds since Tina had spoken, but in that short span Credence had filed away a treasure trove of sensations and details to pore over once he was alone. He looked down, meaning to offer his hand only to see that Percival was still sprawled on his back over the brightly patterned mat, blinking up at him and looking nothing short of bewildered. Another image for his mental inventory, then. 

Looking a little flustered herself, Queenie smiled and clapped her hands once, startling Percival into standing up just as quickly as Credence had done--almost as though he'd been caught at something. It was clear he hadn't been exaggerating… he definitely attended yoga classes regularly, Credence thought. 

“Round three will be the last round, unless you lose this one, so don’t go anywhere, you two.” Queenie waved Newt and Jacob over again.

“We don’t get a break?” Credence asked, a little desperately.

“At _your_ age?” Jacob grunted, making his way back to the other side of the mat. “What do you need a break for?”

Next to an embarrassed Credence, Percival murmured, “I could use one myself,” and Credence turned to face him, only to be winked at.

Queenie, meanwhile, brought over a well chilled glass of lemonade. “You can have this,” she said generously, “though I’m not sure it’ll help much.” She trotted off again with a giggle.

Credence quickly took a large gulp, as much to hide his face as to cool down. He was just considering pressing the half empty glass to his cheeks when Percival spoke softly.

“May I?”

Credence gave him the glass, and he took a generous drink from it too, not bothering to avoid the spot Credence had drunk from. 

“She’s right. It won’t help.” Percival set down the glass, reaching past Credence’s hip to do so. “It _is_ delicious, though.”

By that point, Credence thought getting tangled up on that silly game mat again couldn’t possibly do worse things to his body than what might, or might not, be vague hints from Percival. He would learn, just a few moves into the next round, that he’d been wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll need this song somewhere in this chapter. 💕
> 
> [Some Enchanted Evening - Jo Stafford](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjdNEIlQeEc)

“Left foot, red,” Tina announced and, for a brief moment, Credence thought that would be the end. If he spread his legs any wider, he would be sure to end up on his backside, considering his hands barely supported him at either side, and he was hovering inches off the ground, staring up at Percival.

“I think,” Percival panted, “there’s only one way I can keep us both in this game.” Before Credence could ask, a pyjama clad knee slid up between his thighs and under his bottom, and he ended up practically sitting on Percival’s left thigh as the man firmly planted his slippered left foot on a dot right underneath Credence.

Credence looked at him helplessly as his own left foot came to rest on a dot far to his side, but Percival’s leg was definitely keeping him in the air.

“I’m not sure the rules allow for one team member to sit on the other’s lap!” Newt protested from somewhere behind Jacob’s back. Jacob was laughing so hard, he nearly overbalanced off the mat.

“As this is a team game, you can’t fault us for taking full advantage of team work,” Percival returned, his breath warm on Credence’s forehead. “Isn’t that right?” he added in a whisper.

“Uh huh…” Credence closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out the effect Percival’s closeness and intimate whispering were having on him.

“Hold on. We’ll win this round yet,” Percival encouraged.

“Right hand, blue.” Tina laughed. “I don’t think any of you can manage that!”

“We’ll see about that,” Newt grunted, aiming for a blue dot well on the other side of Jacob and stretching his long arm as far as it could reach; he just managed to touch the dot. Jacob had it comparatively easy this time.

“I can’t see the dots underneath me,” Credence admitted. “How do I find--”

Percival’s right hand reached below him and took hold of his, placing both their hands on the same blue dot.

“Thank you,” Credence whispered.

“More team work?” Jacob chuckled.

“Certainly.” Percival was smiling, but holding them both up in this rather awkward way was clearly getting to him, Credence thought; he was looking as flustered now as he himself felt.

“Right foot, yellow.” Tina’s laugh said clearly enough how likely that was to happen.

“Oh, blast!” Newt said. “We give up.”

“We _what_?” Jacob protested, but Newt had already plonked himself down on his backside with a groan.

“I guess that means you win the whole game, Percival and Credence,” Queenie announced, adding more quietly, “and who knows what else.”

Percival smiled broadly and, with his arm around Credence, held him gently while he lowered his knee, and Credence’s weight on his thigh, to the mat. “Congratulations, team mate.”

Credence’s hands clutched at his shoulders, inadvertently pulling the fine robe further open and exposing tanned skin and sharp collarbones. He was feeling even more unbalanced now they were ‘safe’ than during the game itself. Though considering how he was being held in Percival’s arms, he thought he should be forgiven for that.

"Okay!" Queenie said brightly, if a little forced. "Who's excited for a little gift exchange?" 

“Uh… gift exchange?” Percival asked, a little awkwardly for the first time.

“Oh dear. You wouldn’t know about that.” Newt frowned.

“We’re all single, you see,” Tina explained. “So we’re exchanging Secret Santa type gifts, because we don’t have Valentines as such.”

“Which means they’re really more Secret Cupid gifts.” Queenie sighed, tapping her fingertip against her chin as she assessed Percival.

“Oh, well don’t mind me. You go right ahead just as you’d planned.” Percival began to make his way back to the sofa. Halfway there, he stopped. “Though considering your kind invitation, I do feel I should contribute a gift of some kind.”

With a rather unholy glint in her eyes, Queenie said, “Well, why don’t I write our names on pieces of paper and you pull one out of a hat? That’s how we did it in the first place. One of us will get two gifts, but that doesn’t matter.” 

Credence chimed in softly, “Percival should get a gift too, in that case, or it’s not fair.”

This earned him a gentle smile from the man. “Sweet of you to think that way, Credence, but there’s really no need.”

Blushing, Credence averted his eyes, watching as Queenie went to get a piece of paper. She tore it into five strips and wrote on each, then folded them tightly and dropped them into her pink cloche off the coat rack.

Percival reached inside, extracting one of the names. “Well, I don’t think my recipient can remain secret, under the circumstances, but at least this means I can be sure to find something that will be welcome. Credence.”

“Yes?” Credence asked eagerly, then realised that Percival must have drawn his name. “Oh, you mean…”

Percival quickly refolded the note and dropped it back into the hat. “Come and sit with me, Credence, and you can tell me what you’d like, while your friends sort out the other gifts.”

“Great idea,” Jacob said, already on his way to get the five packages off the sideboard. He handed one to Credence, then doled out the others to their rightful recipients, nudging them all towards a slight distance from the sofa.

“Well,” Percival started, once Credence perched beside him. “I could head out to a store and buy you something, though that will take a little while. I can’t exactly go like this.” He pointed down at himself, seemed to realise his robe had opened a little, and belted it more tightly.

Giggling, Credence agreed. “You really don’t have to give me anything.”

“I want to.” Percival looked at him beseechingly, then nodded to the small box in Credence’s hands. “Why don’t you open that first?”

Credence did, revealing a book of Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales. He blushed scarlet. “Oh…”

“Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?” Percival sounded amused.

“It’s good. It’s just that…”

“Hmm?”

Credence bit his lip. “I’ve wanted this for a while. I’ve never read a fairy tale until after I left home, but I’m really too old for them now--”

“Credence,” Percival covered his hand on the book, “we’re never too old for the things that make us happy.”

Credence was so distracted by the warmth of Percival’s hand on his, he almost didn’t hear his next words. 

“I’m rather fond of fairy tales myself.” Smiling at Credence’s wide-eyed expression at the admission, Percival said, “In fact, I own a few books that you might like. I could go upstairs and choose one, or…”

“Or?”

“You could choose one for yourself.” Percival looked almost bashful. “If you don’t mind visiting a strange man’s apartment in your pyjamas.”

A giddy, fluttering feeling like a swarm of birds went through Credence’s whole body. “You’re not a stranger anymore,” he murmured, feeling bolder than he thought he had any right to be.

“That’s true,” Percival agreed. His smile was as inviting as his words. “In that case, shall we?” When Credence nodded, he rose and drew him up by his hand.

“Where are you two off to?” Tina asked, moving out of the way of another sharp nudge by Queenie preemptively.

“I’m just going to steal Credence away for a few minutes, so he can pick his gift off my book shelf.”

“Thank you for this, by the way,” Credence muttered, feeling flustered and knowing his excitement about going off with Percival must be palpable to his friends. He held up the book he’d already received.

No one took responsibility for giving it to him, but everyone smiled.

“Behave yourselves, while you’re away,” Queenie said. “We’ll be keeping an eye on the time.”

Percival laughed, a little huskily, and Credence wanted nothing more than a place to hide, choosing Percival’s broad back as he slipped around him towards the door.

“You behave _yourself_, Queenie,” Jacob told her. “I’m sure Percival is a perfect gentleman.”

***

Even just standing alone with him out in the hall, Credence's nerves spiked up to new and unprecedented heights. He'd seen handsome men before, but none that had ever made him so painfully flustered. And, as far as he'd ever been aware, certainly none that had ever really noticed _him_ in return.

Not that Credence was assuming Percival was actually interested, but… there had been a few moments, hadn't there? Enough to have him hoping that this wouldn't be the only opportunity he got to spend any time with the man. 

For a moment they just looked at each other, shy smiles and sparkling eyes. It felt strange to be out in the hall dressed in pyjamas, and even more strange to see someone as polished as Percival doing the same. Almost as if everything had been turned over on its head in only just a few hours of each other's company, a regular day suddenly turned magical with just one of Percival's smiles. Credence could almost feel his friends hovering just on the other side of the door, and the realisation that he was about to leave the shelter of their teasing attentions to be truly _alone_ with Percival suddenly struck him full force. 

As if he could read Credence's thoughts, Percival glanced at the closed door and then back to him. He smiled, gesturing slightly ahead of himself towards the direction of the elevator. "Shall we, then?" 

*** 

They made it to the penthouse without encountering anyone who might wonder at their attire, and the temporary concern about that, which had been keeping Credence’s excitement at bay, vanished the moment he was gently steered through Percival’s front door with a hand between his shoulder blades.

At first, he just let out a soft sigh. They were only standing at the head of an entrance hall and still he could tell that the apartment beyond was gorgeous. 

“Normally, I’d say we should take our shoes off,” Percival said, “but seeing as I’m in house slippers and you’re barefoot, I suppose it won’t make any difference.” 

Even though Percival stood just behind him, Credence could hear the smile in his voice, and when the man passed him a few steps down the hall and then glanced back over his shoulder, it was still there. He felt speechless, nearly vibrating with tense anticipation, but it wasn’t like any kind of nerves he recognised. It was pleasant and full of possibility. If _something_ was going to happen in here, whatever it was, he wanted it to. 

“Come on in,” Percival reassured him softly. “I’ll fix us some hot chocolate or something while you peruse my book shelves.”

Credence had been right: the apartment was beautiful, spacious and clean, and nicer than any home he’d ever been inside of. To the left of a large living area--bigger than Queenie’s and Tina’s--was an open kitchen space gleaming with polished chrome and warm mahogany. But instead of heading straight there, Percival padded over to a low shelf in the living room right near the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city. 

Credence watched, mouth running a little dry at the way the silk of his dress robe grew faintly taut across his backside as Percival crouched down to scan something in a lower cabinet. Certainly the man hadn’t asked him up here simply to be ogled like a dancing girl, but Credence knew that according to his ma, resistance to temptation had never been his strong point.

Having found what he wanted, Percival rose to his full height again, holding in his hand what Credence recognised instantly as the sleeve of a vinyl record album. Taking in the rest of the shelf, he saw that it was indeed mostly occupied with stereo equipment, including a record player.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Percival smiled a little sheepishly. “I almost never entertain company, and I’m a bit of a boring old man at the end of the day.” He shrugged. “But I do love to collect old records, so I thought some music might be nice. Do you know Jo Stafford?” 

He slid the record from its sleeve as Credence mutely shook his head at the question and watched him place the record carefully on the turntable and lower the needle. At the first few soft hissing _pops_ while the needle found its groove, Credence managed to finally stammer out something like words. 

“We had records at home too when I was a kid, but we weren’t allowed any rock music, so I probably won’t be famili--”

He stopped mid sentence as two things took place: the soft, sweeping strains of an old fashioned orchestra filled the room, and a flustered, unexpected blush coloured Percival’s cheeks. 

“It’s... uh, it’s not rock music,” he said, running a hand over the back of his perfect silver undercut in a way that Credence could swear was slightly nervous. “Like I said--boring old man.” 

Boring was about the last word Credence would use to describe the man standing before him, or _old_; as a woman’s heartfelt voice began to sing a little sadly with the sound of a vintage Hollywood movie, it struck him with the force of Cupid’s arrow that he truly _liked_ this man. It wasn’t merely attraction--he wanted to know him, all the little things about him, and he wanted it very badly. Suddenly he was eager indeed to have a look at those bookshelves, if only to learn something more about Percival’s tastes.

“This is beautiful,” he said softly, smiling when Percival dropped his hand and looked at him in surprise. “I think I like this much more than I would like rock music.”

“Really?” A smile began to tug at Percival’s lips. “You’re not just being polite?”

Credence shook his head. “I wouldn’t pretend.”

“No,” Percival said thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think you would.” He took a few steps closer. “I think you’re probably the most earnest, sincere person I’ve ever met. And I’m willing to bet the kindest, too.” When Credence ducked his head, his smile widened. “I shouldn’t embarrass you. Come, look at the books. I think you’ll find something here you’ll like.” He held out his hand.

Credence didn’t hesitate. He took it at once and let himself be drawn to another shelf. A floor lamp beside it was switched on by Percival’s foot on the pedal. He wondered how Percival’s touch had become so familiar so quickly, yet continued to make him breathless.

“Well, I have all the fairy tales you might expect. Andersen, of course. This Grimm Brothers collection. Ah… this copy of _1001 Nights_ has some beautiful illustrations. And Perrault--the granddaddy of fairy tale writers…” Credence smiled. “Have a good look at everything. I’ll be right back with that hot chocolate.”

“Okay.” Credence watched him head to the kitchen. In fact, he spent more time watching Percival as he prepared two mugs of chocolate than he spent looking at the books. All too frequently, he was caught watching, and Percival smiled at him across the distance, just as if he didn’t mind at all.

When he returned, he handed one of the mugs to Credence, cradling the other in his left hand. “I remembered something rather adorable in this lot of books that’s just custom made for you; it’s an English fairy tale from the 1920s.” He scanned the shelf, then plucked a thin volume in a pastel sleeve off it with his free hand.

To Credence, it looked like a very old and likely valuable edition. “Oh no, I couldn’t! This is far too--” He began to giggle when he read the title on the cover: _The Adventures of Maya the Bee_, by Waldemar Bonsels.

Percival laughed with him, his eyes moving over Credence’s face. “You can, and you should. Take it as a bonus on top of whichever other collection most appeals.”

“No, I can’t take two books,” Credence protested.

Drawing his distinctive, heavy brows together, Percival said, “Now, just tell me, when else will another honey bee come flying into my dreary apartment?” He hesitantly traced the outline of the ridiculously big bee wings… then the little beady eyes, and the stripes one by one… gold and black, gold and black… top to bottom, top to bottom… before his fingers moved around the large bee and across the grey flannel background.

The lady on the record was singing something about a feeling almost like being in love, and Credence was tempted to nod along to the words. He fought down a shiver when the fingertips reached the outer edge of his round collar, before their warmth moved along the adjacent skin. “It’s not d-dreary, Percival, it’s… it’s so nice.”

“Is it, Credence?” Percival asked, meeting his eyes, and by the look in them and the way it made him tremble almost hard enough to spill the hot chocolate, Credence knew they were not talking about the apartment now.

“Yes,” he murmured, then quickly sipped on the chocolate. He couldn’t break eye contact though, not for anything in the world and, once he lowered the cup again, Percival took it from his hand and placed it, along with his own, on a low side table a couple of steps away. 

“Will you indulge me and dance with me?” he asked softly.

Credence’s heart pounded. “I… I don’t know how.”

Percival smiled. “You don’t need to know. Just hold onto me, Credence, and we’ll sway together.” He took a step closer and rested his right hand on Credence’s waist. “Please.”

Knowing he wouldn’t deny Percival anything, Credence nodded and placed his left hand on the silk-clad shoulder. His other hand was taken and held up between them, the backs of them brushing robe collar and pyjama top.

“This song… promise to listen to it carefully,” Percival whispered in the break between songs. “Yes?”

“I will,” Credence whispered back, and listened while they swayed together, and his breath caught at the words.

_Some enchanted evening, you may see a stranger,_  
_You may see a stranger across a crowded room,_  
_And somehow you know, you know even then,_  
_That somehow you'll see him again and again._  
_Some enchanted evening, someone may be laughing,_  
_You may hear him laughing across a crowded room,_  
_And night after night, as strange as it seems,_  
_The sound of his laughter will sing in your dreams._  
_Who can explain it, who can tell you why?_  
_Fools give you reasons, wise men never try._

His hand was pressed to Percival’s chest, and there was no denying his heart beat as rapidly as Credence’s own. He made a soft sound of stunned wonder, to which Percival replied with a sigh as he pressed his cheek to Credence’s.

_Some enchanted evening, when you find your true love,_  
_When you feel him call you across a crowded room,_  
_Then fly to his side and make him your own,_  
_Or all through your life you may dream all alone._  
_Once you have found him, never let him go,_  
_Once you have found him, never let him go._

“It’s… it’s perfect,” Credence whispered, and he heard Percival give a gentle hum of agreement. “Everything is just…” 

He didn’t understand it, he’d only just met the man, but Credence wanted to stay with him like this forever. It was just like the song had said: fools give you reasons, wise men never try. Rarely in his life had Credence ever felt so safe and so carefully attended to; Percival’s apartment was like an oasis, a little world of its own where nothing bad could ever reach him, and to be there in his arms was…. 

Suddenly he felt himself begin to tremble faintly, overcome with a whirling storm of so many emotions, he almost felt that he needed Percival to hold him if only just to keep them all inside. He wanted it to be real--almost couldn’t bear the thought that this might be one single lovely evening to look back on and wonder about. Beneath the music, a little sound escaped him and he tucked his head into the crook of Percival’s neck, knowing that he was silently begging for some sort of reassurance and helpless to stop himself.

“Credence?” Percival asked with a note of concern in his voice that only made him want to tuck in even closer if he could. The man paid such wonderful attention; Credence called, and he answered right away. “Is everything all right?”

He nodded against his shoulder and murmured a little _mhmm_. Then, despite the fact that he didn’t really have the words to describe everything he was feeling, he knew he had to try, somehow. He pulled back slightly and caught Percival’s eyes, so warm and full of the genuine care that Credence had gone so long in his life without ever knowing.

“I… I just.” There was nothing to be done for it but to put it plainly. “I really like you, Percival,” he said, with a touch of something self-conscious. He didn’t want to break the spell, but he couldn’t just say nothing, either.

The softest of smiles tugged at Percival’s lips, and he looked genuinely relieved. “You do?”

“Yes,” Credence whispered. “Is that… is that okay?”

Percival raised their joined hands and, holding Credence’s eyes, he gently stroked his thumb tip over his knuckles, then pressed his lips to them. When Credence gasped, Percival told him in a murmur, “That’s more than okay.” He sighed a little. “Oh, Credence…”

It was Credence’s turn to look worried, to wonder whether his awkwardness, his lack of experience, would make Percival want to push him away, albeit gently.

Instead, Percival’s hand moved around his waist and to the small of his back, and he was pulled very close. Still holding Credence’s hand close to his lips, Percival moved his thumb along his chin, then traced the bottom lip, dropped open in wonderment. “I was worried I might be scaring you,” he confessed.

“No,” Credence quickly reassured him, the word shaping his lips into a kiss to the exploring thumb tip. He blushed. “I was worried you might… might push me away, after this… dance, and I don’t want... I couldn’t bear--”

“Shh,” came the gentlest of interruptions, and then Percival’s mouth was on his, quenching his thirst for reassurance.

Credence’s knees would have buckled were it not for the steadying arm around him, and the way the welcome pressure to his lips increased the more he yielded to it. And oh, how he yielded. He had no thought of resistance when his mouth was tenderly coaxed open by Percival’s tongue, and nothing could have stopped his full body shiver when it sought out his, or his helpless whimper when Percival moaned into his mouth.

It took only a moment for Credence’s arms to find their way up around Percival’s neck, the fingers of both hands sliding over the shorn hairs at his nape to tangle where it was brushed thick and full at the crown. His small whimper grew into an answering moan, and already he felt that whatever they’d started was like a dam breaking--any attempt to cut it off short would be agony now.

Percival nipped at his kiss-swollen lower lip, eliciting a wanton noise, and then, as if he could feel Credence’s inner thoughts again, he pulled back to look into his face. His own face was flushed, his eyes the darkest Credence had seen them and glittering with something a little fevered. “Credence,” he rasped, “I don’t want to overwhelm you, or make you think that you have to do anyth--”

A surge of fondness and gratitude came over Credence then, and maybe a little amazement that, even now, in the grip of what was happening to them both, Percival was concerned only for him. And it only made him want the man even more desperately. He followed the feeling and pressed his lips against Percival’s, almost chastely, while he held his eyes with what he knew could only be a pleading look. 

“Please,” he panted, “overwhelm me. You’ve been just out of reach all night and it’s killing me, I _want_ you, I can’t--” He could hardly believe the boldness of the words that were leaving his mouth, but it was easy not to think about it for longer than it took to say them when he was interrupted by a searing kiss. 

This time Percival _plundered_ his mouth with all reservation gone, kissing him hungrily. Rough little _hums_ vibrated in the space, almost growls, and now Credence was certain his legs wouldn’t hold him up much longer. He was sure Percival must have felt his trembling when a pair of strong and steady hands grasped at his hips and pulled him flush against him, holding firm. When he felt the hard _press_ of Percival’s arousal through silk and flannel, a mere torturous inch away from his own, he gasped loudly and then groaned.

“What do you want, Credence?” Percival’s voice was raw and rough between breaths and biting kisses. He sucked at Credence’s plush lip like a delicacy, like something to be savoured. “Anything, sweetheart, anything you want.”

“I want… I want to know how much _you_ want me. I… show me, Percival, please!”

“Oh, Christ. Credence!” Percival walked him to the sofa edge, hands roaming all over his arms and back in the soft pyjamas. “Are you sure? Because we’re talking about a lot of wanting here. I’ve been going crazy all evening--”

“Me too!” Credence yelped when Percival nipped at his neck, even as he was pushed down and back into the thick sofa cushions, with Percival dropping to his knees in front of him, keeping his legs apart by pressing into him. “Oh...”

“I’m supposed to behave like a gentleman,” Percival mused huskily. “How am I meant to do that, just tell me that!” Credence gasped out a soft laugh, clutching at burgundy silk, when Percival’s next words made him still. “When everything I’ve ever wanted is right here in front of me.” Percival’s hands shook when he cupped Credence’s face, his features almost tense with the need to convey how he felt. “Where have you been hiding from me, sweetheart? I’ve looked so hard for you.”

Credence leaned in and pressed his forehead to Percival’s. “I’d never hide from you. Please, please… don’t lose sight of me again.”

“Never.” Percival kissed him again, and Credence, knowing what to do now, kissed him back with equal hunger. It was Percival who groaned first when his hand, slipped into Credence’s pyjama pants, closed around his hard length.

Credence sucked in a gasping breath, hoping it would keep him from spilling himself in Percival’s warm, firm grip within seconds.

“You’re so close already.” Percival sounded awed, and almost disbelieving. He leaned in and whispered into Credence’s ear, “Only one thing to do if we don’t want to explain a change of pyjamas to your friends.”

Credence, reeling from the wet heat of Percival’s breath on the shell of his ear, had no time to form a question before Percival’s left hand drew his hips forward and tugged down the elastic of his pants and, with a heated smile up at him, he could only watch him dive down onto his dripping cock.

“Percival!” Credence fairly shouted out his name at the sudden slick heat of the man’s mouth around him, the sound melting into a series of stuttered moans. Percival had been absolutely right--he was so close, so stunned with acute arousal, he could hardly breathe. His hands found Percival’s mussed hair, fingers twining there to move in time with the bobbing of his head, almost as if to push and pull all at once.

He’d barely ever _imagined_ someone doing something like this to him; only just this evening he’d trembled to simply share a seat on the couch with the man. Now he watched, groaning and panting hard, as the most unspeakably intimate part of himself disappeared again and again between lips gone a passionate red. Percival was humming and moaning as he sucked, cheeks flushed, devouring Credence like a man starved. 

When he saw Percival’s left hand leave its place over his inner thigh, impatiently tug the tie of his robe so it fell open, and steal into his own silk pants, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. Never in his life had he seen or even dreamed of such a wanton sight, and to think that Percival was so excited--that he wanted him so badly he couldn’t bear to wait--it was almost too much. 

Percival pushed at the waistband of his pyjamas roughly with that one exploring hand, bringing it down around his thighs without once losing his rhythm. His cock sprung free of the silk, thick and glossy at the head where he’d briefly smeared it in his grip. Credence groaned and shook to have it revealed before him, so close and still so painfully out of reach. He watched Percival’s broad hand curl around the shaft, just holding firm as though trying hard to stave off his own release. Almost like a signal, the gesture brought on the first sharp twinge of his own imminent orgasm, coiling tightly. 

Pulling back for a second or two to pant over him, Percival locked eyes with Credence and the look in them was _burning_. He’d done this--he’d brought Percival to this shivering madness on the floor somehow, unbelievably. “You wanted to see,” Percival said, and then he pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock. “You wanted to see how badly I want you, it’s right here.”

Credence felt his head hit the back of the couch as he arched, half writhing in place, seeking out the sensation that he craved like an illicit drug. He knew it would bring him over the edge now at a breath. “Oh Percival, I’m gonna--” 

“God, me too, baby,” Percival answered and then his mouth was back where Credence was ready to beg for it to be. Instantly, he was coming like a shot, legs splayed wide, tense and trembling. Percival’s steady hand began to move over himself down below the edge of the couch, pumping with intention now, and when he began to spurt out over his fist, the groaning sound he made around Credence had him choking out a hoarse shout.

The rush of his orgasm, so much more powerful than anything he’d furtively managed to bring about on his own, only slowly released Credence from its grip, and he lay sprawled in the soft cushions, gazing down at Percival in absolute awe.

“You know,” Percival began, voice rough from pleasant exertion, “seeing you sated like that, with that look in your eyes, makes me want to take you to my bed and keep you there until you can’t remember ever having been anywhere else.”

An exhausted jolt of arousal shook Credence’s body. “That sounds so good.” His own voice was almost as strained as Percival’s. He pushed his upper body forward and met Percival in a salty kiss that made him moan with the prospect of tasting Percival’s essence, rather than his own, soon.

When their lips parted, Percival cupped the back of Credence’s head with his dry hand and murmured, “I suspect a search party will start heading up here soon.”

“I… suppose…” Credence could barely make himself care.

Percival chuckled. “I’m going to tuck you in nice and tidy, and then I’m going to clean up my own mess, and then we rejoin the party, hmm?”

“If we have to,” Credence sighed. 

“We don’t want your friends to worry about you,” Percival told him, making him presentable again--with careful attention to his oversensitised flesh. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

Credence smiled up at him dopily, his eyes following him to the hallway.

Percival was back within a few minutes, looking fresh and neat and almost as though he was wearing a whole new, identical pair of pyjama pants. The elegant robe still hung loose and open. It was possible, Credence thought, that Percival had mastered some magical way of always looking unruffled. Unless he happened to be kneeling at Credence’s feet, driving him mad, that was.

“What’s that adorable blush all about?” Percival asked with a smile as he pulled him to his feet. “What naughty things are going on in that mind of yours?”

Credence pressed into his arms--which closed around him immediately--and giggled. “Nothing much.” He sighed happily when Percival squeezed him tight, soft lips brushing the edge of his jaw.

“You’re adorable, you know,” Percival told him. “We haven’t even returned to that party yet, and I can’t wait to have you to myself again.”

“Good,” Credence said, nuzzling into Percival’s neck and just breathing the warm, masculine scent of his skin. “The sooner the better.”


	3. Chapter 3

“That was a long expedition to find a book!” was the greeting they received from Jacob when he opened the door. He looked and sounded a little tipsy, and more jovial than ever.

“There were a lot of nice books to look at,” Credence muttered.

“We might have had a nice, hot drink too.” Percival winked at him when he flushed.

“So, what book did you get?” Queenie asked from one of the floor cushions, craning her neck.

Credence paled. “Oh no, I forgot to bring it back.” When everyone laughed, he hurried to say, “It’s about a bee!”

Percival’s hand gently rubbed circles on the small of his back before he nudged him back over towards the sofa. “I’m afraid we got distracted talking. You’d best come and get it later, Credence, after the party.”

Credence smiled at him as they settled in beside each other. The thought of ‘later’ had him nearly missing Queenie’s teasing remark.

“Talking, huh?”

What he _didn't_ miss was the way Tina's eyes had seemed to follow the motion of Percival's possessive hand at the small of his back, or the way they kept stealing fond glances at one another seated side-by-side on the couch. It had to be pretty obvious to everyone that something had changed since they had left the party. Something crucial. 

"So what did everyone else get for their Valentine's gifts?" Credence asked, if only to take some of the scrutiny off himself and Percival. Luckily, the tactic worked and the room immediately filled with excited voices and more than a few ribald jokes. 

"Hey Queenie, you gotta show Credence those dice," Jacob's voice cut through the cacophony.

"Dice?" Percival asked. "That sounds innocent enough. Are we due for another party game then? Maybe some Yahtzee?"

To Credence's surprise, Newt was the one to fall over laughing this time, freckled face quickly pinking behind his hands. "It would take quite some inventiveness to play a game of Yahtzee with _those_," he cryptically offered.

Percival raised a brow as he held out a hand for the little organza bag Queenie placed on his palm. Even she was blushing faintly, though Credence suspected it might be due to whatever they'd clearly been using to spike the punch.

Pulling open the drawstring, Percival tipped the contents into his cupped palm and immediately began to chuckle. Credence leaned slightly against his shoulder in order to see; despite all the things they'd just done together upstairs, he turned the reddest of everyone gathered. 

Instead of numbers, each side of the die had words: rather saucy ones. One die seemed to indicate actions, while the other described parts of the body. Of course, they were clearly meant to be rolled in such a way that an action would pair with its target. Things like KISS and THIGH, or BLOW and EAR. Instantly, all he could think of was what it would be like to spend an evening with Percival, rolling those dice and seeing where it might take them. It was supposed to be silly--a fun gag gift to laugh at among friends, but. With _Percival_…

Maybe the man himself was having similar thoughts, Credence wondered, by the way he lightly coughed and poured the dice back into the bag. He made light of it, cracking some small joke or other as he handed it back to Queenie, but Credence was sure his leg pressed a little firmer against his just then, that the fingers of his nearest hand twitched a bit--as if he was just about to place it over Credence's knee and thought better of it at the last. God, he couldn't wait to be alone with him again.

“Well, this is far too naughty a game to play in company,” Queenie declared, dropping the dice on a side table behind her. She waved away Jacob’s pouting complaint and Newt’s accusation of _Coward_ both, and grinned. “But we can play Telephone.”

So they did, with everyone moving various ottomans and floor cushions closer to the sofa; the latter remained entirely Percival’s and Credence’s domain.

After Credence had received a quick explanation--the game was simple enough, after all--it was decided they’d alternate between passing on the messages clockwise and counterclockwise by turns, with a different starting point each time. 

The first round started with Newt and, by the time his sentence made it to Percival, it had deteriorated into _Sandals have dutiful ties_, which he whispered into Credence's ear.

Credence shivered, his eyes widening when Percival added, “And my message is: I miss your taste already.”

Credence didn’t dare look at him but, when he was asked what the message was, he made very sure to tell the group only the first part.

Newt frowned. “Well, that should be: Salamanders have beautiful eyes.”

Jacob guffawed. “Which makes about as much sense, Newt.”

“It does! Have you ever seen--”

“Credence! Your turn to start,” Tina said, giving Newt a funny look.

Credence thought about it for a moment and, when he couldn’t come up with anything better, he grappled for a line from the Bible, as he was more familiar with it than anything else. He blushed to use one from a section he had been expressly forbidden to read. Leaning close enough to Percival for his lips to nearly touch his ear lobe, he whispered, “I will climb the palm tree, I will take hold of its fruit.” And, after a moment, he added, “I want to be alone with you again.”

Percival smiled at him, his eyes a shade darker and, as he turned to pass on the first part of the message, the back of his hand caressed Credence’s knee very subtly.

When it was Newt’s turn to reveal what had actually made it to him in lieu of Credence’s line, he said, looking flabbergasted, “I will lie on Palm Beach and behold the loot?”

Queenie got the giggles and said, “Shame on you, Credence, for inciting us all to crime!”

He ducked his head and grinned. “I said nothing like that.” He explained that his sentence had come from the Bible, of all places, and felt rather awkward about that when Tina looked at him sadly and everyone quickly suggested Percival should start the next round.

Percival himself looked at him searchingly. He leaned in, cupped his hand around Credence’s ear and, after a barely there kiss that made Credence gasp, said, quite clearly, “If these delights thy mind may move, then live with me, and be my love.” He added, “I want to wake up with you tomorrow morning.”

Credence gulped. Once Percival moved back, he needed a moment, and took a large gulp of lemonade, before he passed on the part that sounded like a quote.

By the time Tina said it out loud, it no longer bore any resemblance to Percival’s beautiful words. “In the light mind, the mine remove and livery and be well off.”

“Oh, good Lord.” Percival chuckled. He corrected the line with what he had actually said, which was the ending of a Christopher Marlowe poem.

“That’s a really interesting choice,” Queenie said, beaming. “Isn’t it, Credence?”

Credence glanced at Percival sideways when he said, “It’s lovely.”

Percival smiled. "I suppose Credence's Bible passage put me in the mood for poetry, after all."

There was a brief and silent pause in which several throats were cleared. "Well!" Queenie suddenly said, brightly enough that a few of them faintly startled where they sat. "I suppose it's getting a bit late? Newt, don't you have a shift tomorrow?"

"Uh, yeah.." Newt answered back, but Credence's attention was taken entirely by the way Percival seemed to meet Queenie's eyes with an almost imperceptible nod. She met his gaze directly and a soft smile touched her lips before she dropped her eyes demurely. Any self-consciousness Credence might have felt at how obvious things were was drowned out by his gratitude at having an escape simply handed to them so soon. 

Percival clapped his hands down over the top of his thighs and raised his brows then. "Well, I don't know about Newt, but I've got a pile of work waiting for me tomorrow, even if I _am_ allowed to do most of it from home." 

Turning to Credence, he tilted his head and affected a casual tone that likely didn't convince anyone present, if the series of looks being exchanged about the room was anything to go by. "I suppose you'll have to retrieve that book you forgot at my place," he remarked. 

Credence nodded. "Yes, and… I wouldn't mind taking a second look at that vinyl collection."

"You collect vinyl records?" Newt suddenly perked up with interest, ever the most oblivious of the gang. Jacob barked out a laugh and grinned, making a swift cutting motion across his throat from the other side of the room. Newt frowned back at him, perplexed, while Tina rolled her eyes.

"You have _work_ tomorrow, " she reminded. "Besides, I was going to come by during your shift and visit with you while I do some book shopping myself, so you'd better not be half awake."

Credence had never quite seen someone blush _and_ turn pale all at once. "You were?" Newt asked, wide eyed. They had all started out that evening single and free, but Credence didn't think even one of them was going to stay that way longer than a couple of days after this party. In fact, glancing over at the possessive way Percival was smiling down at him, he wasn't sure he was still single even in that very moment. It seemed highly unlikely.

They stood up from the couch in unison, Percival thanking Queenie profusely for the lovely evening and all the wonderful food. He even made a quick promise to Newt that the record collection would be fully open to his perusal next time he was in the building--a kind offer that made Credence smile with affection.

At the door, as they said their final goodbyes, Queenie placed a quick kiss to the side of Credence's face. She was swift, and she was smooth about it, as always, but Credence still felt it when she tucked the little bag of dice into the pocket of his pyjama pants. "Happy Valentine's," she whispered with a huge grin.

He gaped, a little foolishly, but knew it would be pointless to feign ignorance. “Thanks, Queenie,” he whispered back.

“What’s the secret?” Percival asked.

Queenie blinked innocently. “Oh, nothing much. I won’t say ‘don’t be a stranger.’ I expect we’ll be seeing a lot of you from now on.” She looked from him to Credence and back.

“I certainly hope so,” Percival said.

“Hey, Credence, how will you get home?” Newt suddenly called out.

Credence, to his own surprise, immediately came up with, “It’s not far, I’ll take a taxi. And I-I’ll sneak in quietly, but don’t wait up.”

Percival gave him an approving smirk, while Jacob walked by with a pat on his shoulder. “Trust me, we won’t.” He laughed on his way out.

Before any other uncomfortable questions could be asked, Percival took his arm and steered him out, “Well then, good night, everyone.”

***

This time, when they entered Percival’s apartment, it felt even more familiar and welcoming. It had gone entirely dark outside, but the gentle glow from other apartments in the buildings around them, and from the street below, provided just enough light to see outlines.

Still standing in the dark, Credence felt Percival’s hands on his shoulders, and felt his breath at his ear as he murmured, “I was tempted to say I’d happily drive you home, but there’s nothing further from my mind tonight.”

“I’m glad,” Credence said. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

Percival turned him into his arms. Even in the near complete darkness, his eyes were dark and his lips glistened as though he’d been moistening them with his tongue. “I wouldn’t let you go anywhere, now that I finally have you to myself again.”

Credence’s stomach tightened pleasantly at Percival’s possessiveness. “Queenie gave me those dice,” he confided, smiling when Percival chuckled.

“Ah, so that was the secret.” Percival pulled him very close. “Still feeling playful, are you?”

“Yes, but only with you,” Credence said, and was at once rewarded with a searing kiss that ended up with him pinned against the nearest wall, moaning wantonly. He’d have felt ashamed, were it not for the effect his moans had on Percival.

“Let’s see if we can’t roll them on the bed.” Percival led him there by one hand, even while he still had his arm around him.

Credence was dizzy from all the spins by the time they got there, so he was more than happy to be nudged, very gently, down onto the bed. A bedside lamp flicked on, and Percival was kneeling over him, eyes black with want.

“Roll the dice, sweetheart.”

With trembling fingers, Credence fished them out of his tiny pocket, then tipped them out onto the gold and silver striped bedspread.

Percival glanced at them and, with a smile, leaned in to tenderly chew Credence’s earlobe.

“O-oh, god!”

“You’re hard against me already.” Percival whispered hotly. “I love that.”

“Can’t… ca-an’t help myself.” Credence’s hand moved over the bed until he found the dice; with a gentle clank, they landed on LICK and NECK. He twisted until his lips were against Percival’s neck, then flicked out his tongue and lapped at it.

“Mmm, I like this game.” Cupping the back of Credence’s head as he began to suckle on his Adam’s apple, Percival nudged the dice over. “And I’ll really like the next round.”

Credence gasped when he found himself sprawled on his back, and Percival began to slide his striped pants down over his hips, revealing his bobbing cock, glistening wetly at the tip.

“It’s a good thing your thighs are just as tempting, or I might have to break the rules of the game.”

Credence glanced sideways. The dice showed KISS and THIGH. He lay perfectly still while Percival arched his back like a cat, spread his thighs, and pressed his mouth to the inside of the right thigh, while stroking sensuously up and down the left. Credence was panting, his cock dripped obscenely, and then the kissing, sucking mouth moved upwards and cleaned the drops away as quickly as they fell.

A rasping hiss filled the quiet of the room as Credence sucked in a breath--then let out a low moan, reaching down to trace and stroke any part of Percival's face his fingertips could touch. 

"Mmm, I told you I missed your taste," Percival murmured between his legs. "Puts Queenie's delicacies to shame, I'm afraid." He licked another swipe over the head of Credence's cock and tilted his head thoughtfully. "You know, the dice didn't exactly say what 'kissing' entails. And really, where does the thigh end, exactly?"

"Wha--?" Credence propped up on his elbows and watched as Percival drew each of his legs up over his shoulders, pushing gently against the bottom of his thighs to raise him up slightly. One groping hand felt around until it found one of several plush cushions strewn about the large bedspread, which he tucked just beneath the small of Credence's back. He knew the answer to his own aborted question then, whimpering in anticipation as Percival ducked his head; all the mirth was gone from the man’s eyes--there was only something hungry and determined.

When he felt Percival place the softest of kisses just _there_\--where he’d never, even by himself, been touched--he gave a soft yelp and gripped his fists into the bedspread at either side of himself, holding on as if for dear life. Percival hummed in satisfaction and, god help him, Credence felt the sound against that tender spot just before it was carefully teased by the tip of a warm, wet tongue. Just the thought of it was _obscene_, and already Credence craved Percival’s next taste like air.

Within just a few licks, Credence was nearly babbling, feeling himself clench and unclench against Percival’s tongue while he begged for more, for _anything_ the man wanted to give him. He felt so deliciously exposed, so wanton; Percival had him spread open under the press of his broad palms, groaning softly every now and then as he very nearly _feasted_ in that most unspeakable of places. “Oh _god_!” Credence heard himself pleading, tossing his head and gripping a nearby pillow as though it would anchor him from sailing straight off, “Percival, I _want_ you, please…. I want you inside, it’s okay, I can… I can take you…” 

“Credence, oh _honey_, you don’t know how much I want that,” Percival answered back, leaning up on one elbow as he swiped a shaking hand over his mouth. “Are you sure? I’m not willing to risk hurting you in any way…”

Credence shook his head, panting and reaching down for Percival, suddenly needing him back in his arms very badly. Percival climbed up into his embrace promptly, stroking his sweat-damp hair away from his face. 

“I know you’ll be so careful,” Credence said, “and I promise I’ll tell you if it’s too much, I won’t pretend. I want this so much, I want _you_.”

Percival nodded, pressing his forehead to Credence’s temple before placing a kiss there. “We’ll take our time, get you ready,” he said, and then he was crawling slightly over the bed to reach the side drawer. It was only a few seconds before he’d returned to Credence’s side, this time with a small tube of lubricant in his hand. “Let’s get this off,” he said, opening the buttons of Credence’s pyjama top one by one. Even the feel of the flannel shifting against his skin was electric, Credence was so aroused, and when Percival’s lips closed around one peaked nipple, he arched up into it with a groan. 

“Oh god, sweetheart, I can’t wait to be inside you,” Percival breathed against his damp skin. 

Reaching to slide his hands inside of Percival's silk robe now that he himself was fully naked, Credence nodded his eager agreement. “I want to touch you, too,” he murmured.

“It’s all yours. Anything you want to touch,” Percival told him. He stilled, looking down at Credence with the softest expression. There was almost an edge of desperation to it. “How have we only met tonight?” He sighed, caressing Credence’s collarbones as if they were rare and precious. “I’m not the kind of man to turn his life around overnight, and yet, I _need_ you _in_ my life. I’ve needed you since I saw you.”

Credence touched the fingers on his chest. He twined his own with them. “No one’s ever needed me.” The lump in his throat was audible in his voice. “It feels so good.”

Percival’s brows tilted and, if anything, he looked even more desperate. He kissed Credence’s forehead, as he moved their fingers to part his robe together. “That’s what I want, baby, to make you feel good. In every way I can.”

Credence looked up at him pleadingly, his hands sliding under the silk as Percival continued to push it off his shoulders. He made soft, happy sounds at the feel of the warm skin, the defined musculature, and the curls of dark hair. He leaned in to kiss and nip, as Percival had done to him, even while he impatiently pushed at the pants until, with Percival’s help, he managed to slide them down. “Please…”

“Patience,” Percival murmured to him, his voice breaking when Credence’s exploring hands ventured around his waist and down, to caress his cock. “Why don’t you prepare me, while I prepare you?” Percival asked huskily.

When Credence blinked, he smiled and coated both their hands with lubricant, and Credence understood. His hand kept stilling and squeezing erratically on the slippery flesh once Percival’s fingers began to slide into him to widen his channel. “Percival…” he gasped, when two of them sent a jolt of pleasure through his entire body.

“Too much?” The fingers began to withdraw, until Credence frantically shook his head on the pillow.

“No, more. _More!_” Credence pleaded.

And Percival gave him three fingers, coated in enough lube to barely stay inside him. “There’s no pain?”

“None, I promise.” Credence squeezed the cock in his hand in time with the next jolt deep inside him, and the synchronicity made them both desperate.

Percival withdrew his fingers, arranging his limbs around Credence, his cock nudging at his hole. “This will feel wonderful,” he told him, and oh... oh, but it did!

Credence gasped, trembling at the sheer reality of Percival sliding into him, taking possession of him like this. “Yes!” he moaned. “More, please.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Percival held him tight while he began to thrust into him, not too deep but perfectly angled, until Credence was groaning without restraint, clutching at him. His hot, sweet breath came in little puffs against Percival’s face and neck. “That’s it, grip me tight, sweetheart. Hold me inside you, where I belong.” Percival moaned loudly on the next thrust. “I love how you feel. How you cling to me.” He tilted his head as if to kiss Credence, but instead, he whispered against his lips, “I love _you_.”

Credence sobbed, overwhelmed by the words and the sensations. His fingers dug into Percival’s back, his thighs clenching around him and, almost without warning, he came with such force, it shook them both.

“Yes,” Percival grunted, thrusting again, deeper than before, and while he spilled into Credence, his lips were on his neck, measuring his pulse.

“Me too,” Credence whispered when Percival stroked back his damp hair from the broad forehead. He pressed into the caress.

“You too?” Percival asked, voice soft and hopeful.

“Love you.” Credence flung his arms around him and clung, just the way he knew Percival wanted him to.


End file.
